Life in the Blueberry Patch

Burn notice

I didn’t add enough water to the pot and burned the pot. No, not the beets. The pot. In my haste to remove the burnt pot and ruined beets, I put the steamer basket on the burner and burnt that too.

They call them burners for a reason.

Earlier today, my husband and I found $60 worth of gift cards to a local grocery store in his car. So we treated ourselves to lots of things we don’t normally buy. Then I forgot to use the cards when we checked out. I remembered .5 seconds after I swiped my debit card, but the clerk wouldn’t cancel that payment.

I don’t know which I should be more grateful for, that I haven’t burnt down our apartment yet, or that my husband still thinks I’m a good cook. Here’s to hoping he never figures out otherwise.

I’ve totally burned a pot before. Once I was making dinner for my parents for their anniversary or easter or something and I forgot to add water to the pan the asparagus were “steaming” in. I wondered why they weren’t cooking and there was a weird burning smell. I then realized that there was no water and proceeded to add some. Bad idea. The water superheated, turned to steam and made the most wretched blacksmith putting burning hot metal into water noise. Note to self: turn off element and let the pan cool down on its own time. Needless to say, that was probably the most disgusting asparagus I have even eaten. (I think we did try to eat them because I’m stubborn like that. :P)

Remember Blueberries for Sal?
This is my little blueberry patch on a hill. The spot for me to sit, reflect, to share, and to be wonderfully messy with blueberry stained lips and grass stained pants. To bask in the sunlight and share my encounters with bears.
Please, feel free to join, as I figure out my faith, marriage, and all that life has to offer.

Blueberries for you, too?

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